


fragile.

by 1roomdisco



Series: KBS TV. [1]
Category: Day6 (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Famous, Character Study, M/M, TV Tropes, UPDATE 02/2018: this has officially become a series pls cheer for me, not yet anyway; would you like a sequel? should this be a series?, pairing tag says sungpil but not really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-04
Updated: 2017-06-04
Packaged: 2018-11-08 21:33:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11090370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1roomdisco/pseuds/1roomdisco
Summary: wonpil is in love with his childhood best friend.





	fragile.

 

 

 

 

  

“so, which one among your flock of good lookin’ friends?”

wonpil blinks. “excuse me?” he asks back, smiling a little. he shifts his body on the high stool to face the bar.

the bartender slings a rag over his left shoulder as he nods towards the direction where jaehyung, mark, jinyoung, and brian just left. to the restroom. what is the guy talking about?

“you’re in love with one of ‘em. i think i have an idea who it is, but why assume if i can just ask you yourself?” the bartender’s answer is stated matter-of-factly, leaving wonpil with no choice but to school his expression into his trademarked friendly and smiley one that he keeps for situation like this.

nah, scratch that. _this_ is the first time anyone ever addresses the matter. the silenced ordeal that wonpil should have kept locked inside, not foolishly boasted out even a bartender, of all people, could make a dangerous guess upon first impression.

wonpil’s smile always runs in automatic mode and it helps, mostly, because wonpil is aware that people are almost always lenient thanks to his handsome face. still, this is the _first_. no one, not even the rest of his flock of good looking friends are aware of him secretly falling harder, deeper, everyday.

wonpil just hopes that his shaking hands go unnoticed by the waaaaaaay too perceptive bartender.

“i’m not answering, but what makes you think that?” he tilts his head, keeping his eyesmile on check.

neo culture is the hottest, newly opened club in itaewon. university students are entitled to free entry every friday nights by showing their student IDs. wonpil has been here several times before and he thinks the bartender looks familiar, but he never exchanged names aside from his usual order of gin and tonic he’s currently having.

the club plays a fusion of RnB and trap, the kind of house music that wonpil can enjoy because it’s not too squeaky loud. darker, even, matching the overall ambience of the place. it’s kinda cold here, but the real question is; is a bartender even allowed to tend to one patron for more than a minute of awkward silence? because wonpil is not going to answer him, remember?

“am i wrong? i apologize then,” the bartender chuckles, and thankfully he doesn’t sound like he’s repulsed by his own selfish assumption. “i’m park sungjin.” he bows slightly, looking sheepish. well, good for him to actually have the knack of a decent manner.

_thankfully_ , wonpil isn’t one to hold grudge at all. this park sungjin guy is a stranger. seoul is a huge area. he can just not go to neo culture for the rest of his life, it’s as easy as that, and he’ll forget this conversation in a couple of weeks top. so wonpil puts on his smile again and says, “hi. kim wonpil.”

“i’m really sorry, wonpil-sshi,” park sungjin sighs, probably regretting his life choice confronting something that wonpil himself isn’t proud of, obviously not fooled by the everlasting smile on wonpil’s handsome face. “your next order is on the house.”

“it’s okay.” wonpil shakes his head.

“no, please. i’m really sorry. i shouldn’t have.”

_then why did you?_ but of course that one is also left unsaid.

“thanks,” wonpil doesn’t think when he places his next order. “i’ll have double shot of tequila.”

park sungjin nods, looking serious. “comin’ right up.”

wonpil hates tequila. he’s guaranteed to be thrashed tonight if he ever goes near one. nevermind two.

as park sungjin does his job, a familiar beat of a very popular EDM anthem has just started and wonpil hears his friends (just brian, really) whooping out loud before they reach the bar. end of semester exams week just passed, and truly their only goal here is to get some and in order to actually score some they have to be down on the dancefloor like, right now.

“ _ohhhhh_ , wonpil-sshi? you gonna be wiiildiiinnn’?!” brian shouts over the cheers, throwing one heavy arm around wonpil’s shoulders. they all know it means serious business if wonpil already orders tequila shots before the clock hits midnight.

"i did him wrong," park sungjin, as it is his gift for being a bartender, enters the conversation with an easy smile and a nod for everyone. "they're on the house for him. but what can i get for you gentlemen?"

“wonpil-ie got free booze this early? sweet.” brian holds up his fist for park sungjin to bump, and of course park sungjin does as requested. "i'll have one vodka shot."

"just good ol' jd on the rocks, sir," mark says next, his canines are showing. "the usual, jinyoung-ah?”

“make it two.” jinyoung gestures with his fingers.

wonpil's heart skips a beat when park sungjin talks to jaehyung, who orders heineken, and it throbs uselessly when jaehyung slides up his hipster, prescription glasses up his nose, before nudging at him to start drinking his tequila shots or else they're going to feel sad like he's taking them for granted.

"whatever," wonpil mumbles, because sometimes you just can never understand your childhood friend in the slightest, no matter how long have you known the tall and lanky, baby faced fashion terrorist hyung. wonpil pouts when jaehyung pinches his chin.

if park sungjin is searching for wonpil's eyes on purpose while serving the drinks, wonpil is glad he can rely on his own slanted ones as an excuse as if he hasn't been paying close attention to park sungjin's quiet observation. wonpil is not going to give him the satisfaction.

with one last nod, park sungjin goes to another customers and wonpil might or might not be releasing a heavy sigh as he gulps down his drinks.

they all decide to open a tab, and jaehyung, as the oldest who’s waiting for graduation and just secured a position at a medium-scaled law firm, volunteers to use his card. everyone cheers again and promises to pitch in.

the song ends, followed by a simple introduction from the opening act for the night. brian, jinyoung, and mark shuffle their way to the dancefloor, leaving wonpil and jaehyung by the bar, their knees knocking and their elbows touching.

ah. the next song is a good one though. wonpil knows every word of the lyric.

“seen someone cute or nah?” jaehyung asks, low, not taking his eyes off the relatively sparse dancefloor. he can’t dance. if wonpil has his face, then jaehyung and his tall, lanky stature along with the grace of his baby face and the typical hipster aura are a guaranteed women magnet ever since he picked his very first nylon magazine as his fashion mecca years ago.

“nah,” wonpil says, bobbing his head to the thumping of the bass. the alcohol hasn’t kicked in, but he’s getting there. “how about you, hyung?”

“i’m not even sure why i tagged along to be honest,” jaehyung scoffs without a bite. of course he isn’t. jaehyung prefers the quiet of arts space and coffee shops slash bookstores over the neon lights and sweaty bodies. wonpil doesn’t mind either one. anywhere is good as long as he’s with his friends.

jaehyung knocks wonpil’s chin with his gentle knuckles. “i’m hungry. wanna grab something from the 7-11? there’s one just across the street.”

“alright,” wonpil sniffs, clears his throat, and wets his dry lips. he lowers his feet and when he’s sure that the ground is not going to fail him, he straightens his spine. “let me tell the boys first.”

“don’t bother.” jaehyung puts down his heineken, half-empty now, and waves to park sungjin to tell him that he will come back.

wonpil can’t not look. park sungjin is not tall. his black hair is styled like the half male population in itaewon; the trendy comma-shaped fringe is curling on top of his left eyebrow. his nose is quite big for his face, but it’s not weird looking, not with how he always seems to smile with his eyes. he’s got three piercings on his left ear. he’s wearing a simple black t-shirt, displaying wide shoulders and firm biceps and multiple protruding veins.

“not closin’ the tab yet?” park sungjin asks and jaehyung nods. “then i need you to leave your ID here.”

wonpil looks away.

“oh, right,” jaehyung fishes out his wallet and gives the bartender his ID. “just gonna get midnight snacks.”

“cheers.” park sungjin salutes them with a wave, and in the end, hours later, after a cup of instant ramyun, boiled eggs, talks about haruki murakami’s newest release, and a shared can of classic hite, wonpil tells jaehyung he’ll just wait at 7-11 while jaehyung collects their flock of good looking friends back in neo culture.

 

* * *

 

 

today has not been the greatest.

first, wonpil missed the bus which was supposed to take him to yeouido where he, thanks to jaehyung’s connections, landed a two months summer internship at KBS drama special department as assistant junior scriptwriter. he was late for about thirty minutes and his mentor had to lecture him about the importance of punctuality in the television industry, something that a soon-to-be senior like wonpil should have known. he spent the rest of the day following his mentor around the floor, making photocopies, proofreading a freshly typed 100 pages script, and had lunch at the employee cafeteria alone because his mentor had a rescheduled important meeting. that’s when he found out he barely passed his brand & culture class, a cross major class he took for extra credit because aside from writing, he’s also fascinated by how powerful the right branding can be for a product, a company, or a public figure. he took the news poorly, mainly because he was so sure he aced the final exam. after he checked his GPA for this semester at the university’s website, his phone died on him and of course he forgot to bring the charger. he completely forgot about simply asking one of his new colleagues to lend him a charger and continued moping until the clock struck five.

his mentor told him to go straight home to get enough sleep because tomorrow they’re going to a filming location in incheon and will stay there all day long.

the final blow happened when he reached inside his postman bag for his ipod.

“but i’m sure i had it just now…” wonpil mumbles to himself, stopping right in front of a cute boutique, worrying his bottom lip. “think, wonpil-ah. _think_.”

he took the subway because he wanted to time the trip, knowing that he missed the bus earlier today, and he had listened to his ipod as soon as he got a seat. obviously, taking the subway was a good idea, it saved him about ten minutes compared to taking the bus with all the traffic and confusing schedule. still, because of the route, he needs to get off one station before his home, where he has to take a bus one more time. it’s almost dinner. his phone’s battery is dead. wonpil makes a turn and walks back to the station, heading to the lost & found section.

someone is talking to the officer lady, holding what looks like a shocking pink ipod touch with huge chicken little character sticker.

“oh my god,” wonpil blurts out in relief. it’s his favorite piece of electronic device because he purchased it with his own money and he’s had it for the past couple of years. everything else won’t matter after this. he can breathe again.

he smiles and nods to the officer lady and looks up to say his thanks to the guy who—

_oh_.

park sungjin has his hair down today. the full, black fringe allows him to look younger than the last time wonpil saw him. was it last week? no, last week he and jaehyung visited the sea world at 63 building.

“hi, we meet again,” park sungjin says, and if wonpil heard him right, he speaks in satoori. “this yours?” he asks. upon this close, without the club’s neon lights and obnoxious music, only the lull of of clacking keyboards in the background and prime time news on the flat screen, park sungjin smells really good. really familiar.

he’s wearing another plain black t-shirt today.

“yes,” wonpil answers like a robot, “did you find it in the subway from yeouido?”

“yeah, didn’t see you there tho.”

“um.”

“gentlemen, if you’d kindly fill the form?” the officer lady interrupts their stilted conversation, offering them two different forms to fill. her smile is patient, and wonpil commands his hands to stop shaking.

they fill the forms in silence. the scratching of their pens is a little bit too loud for wonpil’s liking. he ticks boxes and signs the form, swallowing nonexistent saliva as he waits for park sungjin to finish his.

“young man, you look pale.” the officer lady gives her comment with a concerned tone. wonpil grimaces and the officer lady tuts at him, telling him to eat, as she collects their forms. she does a brief checking and lets them go with another smile before going back to her computer.

wonpil thanks her. he takes his ipod, presses the home button, sees jaehyung’s figure sleeping on the screen—the crook of his hipster glasses and his plump lips, jaehyung’s favorite oversized denim jacket and black and white thin stripes t-shirt—and it was three weeks ago that park sungjin asked the one question he wished no one would ever ask yet it was already out anyway.

“you’re flushing red,” park sungjin says, quietly, like he doesn’t want to scare wonpil. “anyway. you headin’ home?”

wonpil nods. his hands are shaking. _badly_. this should be his cue to leave park sungjin with a polite goodbye, but he’s stood rooted to the spot, clutching his pink ipod like a lifeline, like it’s the only thing that could save him from crumbling in front of a stranger who asked him the one question he wished no one would ever ask, mostly because it has some kind of poor representation of jaehyung; the answer to the one question no one should have ever asked.

“hey, you okay?”

wonpil is not okay. what he feels for jaehyung is _his_. nobody was supposed to find out and destroy the illusion that his feeling will be his forever. now it’s tainted because someone found out and _asked_ about it.

“do you want to sit down?” park sungjin’s touch is electric against wonpil’s arm and wonpil jolts with a gasp. his legs are losing strength and there are red and blue dots on his vision before the world turns completely black.

 

 

 

wonpil is lying flat on his back when consciousness is slowly creeping back to him. there’s a damp hand towel perched on top of his face, covering his forehead and eyes, and his body feels light as he tries to sit down.

he’s in what looks like an office. the sofa is faded green and a cup of steaming hot tea is already waiting for him on the round coffee table. the clock on the wall says it’s half past six.

_right._

“hey.”

wonpil blinks. he hasn’t even processed the chain of events before he sees park sungjin seated on a loveseat of the same color across from him; his smile is apologetic and handsome.

“h-hi,” wonpil croaks. his throat is dry. “you’re still here.”

park sungjin looks pained when their eyes meet.

“i felt like i did you wrong again,” he says, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his thighs, the fabric of his plain black t-shirt is straining around his biceps. “swear i didn’t mean to freak you out back then. you had this _look_ when you stared at the guy on your ipod locksreen, like—like he gave you _the moon_ , and i was curious, i swear. i’ve never thought i could witness somethin’ so tender with my own eyes, let alone in a fuckin’ club of all places.”

that’s… a lot to take in.

“it’s alr—” wonpil clears his throat and decides that this is more important than reassuring park sungjin that he’s not insulted whatsoever by his assumption; “did i really look at jae-hyung like that?” he asks in utmost horror.

park sung—no, _sungjin_ —nods without hesitation and wonpil groans, hiding his face using his hands. he’s not embarrassed, per se, because he really loves jaehyung, but mostly he’s hit by the fact that a stranger could read him so easily.

on a less depressing note, maybe this is the sign from the universe for wonpil to take it easy. five years is a long time, after all, and one guy has been asking about it twice in a span of twenty something days. yes, wonpil is in love with jaehyung. no, it doesn’t matter, not anymore, because having his deepest feeling finally exposed by accident is actually very anti-climatic.

except for his fainting fiasco, that is. but even _that_ has its own scapegoat. he can blame it on the misfortune of his first interning day!

“are you… laughin'?”

“huh? _pfft_ —i’m—ha ha.” wonpil rubs the corners of his eyes with the heels of his palms. “i’m—“ and he can’t help it. his laughter is coming in small ripples that begins with his chest heaving before he throws his neck back to let out the squealing. then the stomping. and the giggling.

“i’m so sorry, i’m not laughing at you,” wonpil snorts, “i’m laughing at _myself_. i’m so glad i met you. this one-sided love has been suffocating me.” he runs his fingers through his hair and sungjin is smiling at him, a mix of confusion and wonder written on his face.

“i have to get going.” wonpil grins. his cheeks hurt. he’s going to call jaehyung to whine about his first day as a slave with minimum wage once his phone is fully charged and he’ll go to sleep happy. tomorrow at the filming set, he will smile to all the crew, introduce himself loud and clear, and learn a lot.

he stands up, shouldering his postman bag. sungjin follows suit, and he looks like he’s got some more to say.

but wonpil beats him to it. he bids goodbye, holding out his hand for a handshake and sungjin’s hand is bigger than his and the brief jolt of electricity is again sending a pleasant tingle that warms its way into his whole being.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

>   
>  listen, wonpil is so _fascinating._ if the response for this fic is good then i have a plan to expand this into a series featuring GOT7 and day6 ensemble.*  
>  anyway. jae's amurrican so i want to write him more. did you notice i haven't even added dowoon in this universe? comment if you want him here lmao. brian is honestly the perfect bro. sungjin is another fake busan namja who can't deny the power of wonpil's aegyo.  
>   
>   
> * hint: cameraman!jb, junior scriptwriter!wonpil, and surprise, surprise bartender/rookie actor!sungjin.  
>   
>   
> let's scream about headcanons at mah tumblr [@marks-hyung](https://marks-hyung.tumblr.com).


End file.
